Nothing Left To Love
by Aspen-SiredBySpike
Summary: [Set after Hannibal Rising] She had been his first love, awaking his long lost emotions since Mischa's death. Unforunately, all good things come to an end, such as their subtle romance when she claims that there's nothing left of him to love.


**A/N: So this is my first _Hannibal_ fic. Set right after _Hannibal Rising_. The idea came to me when I was trying to finish a oneshot for _Twilight_. Oh well, this is what you get instead.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Hannibal_ or any of the other characters mentioned.**

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Nothing Left To Love

The last words his lady had said to him rang out through his head, their volume increasing with every repetition.

He had loved her. Ever since Mischa's tragic end, the tormented young man had pushed all feelings of passion out of his heart, his soul, leaving only room for that of hate and anger. Never again, he thought, would he be able to love another. Never again would he be able to open up and release the innocent nature that had claimed him as a child.

When faced with the reality of his two subordinate facades, it seemed that since she had walked out of his life, only the monster surfaced; the man being hidden away deep in the bowls of his inner Hell.

As cryptic as his emotions were towards her, they were there. Subtly wasn't usually how he operated, but in all cases pertaining to his aunt, the only mother figure he had, nothing could be rash. He knew that ever since the passing of his uncle, Lady Murasaki hadn't been quite the same; fragile, like a China doll. Even though he hadn't known her while her husband was still alive, he could see it in her eyes.

Those eyes. Those deep, onyx eyes were the greatest mystery he had ever come across. What traveled in behind them? What secrets were lost in the catacombs that lie beneath? A hint of remorse here, a dash of torment there; but after a few weeks of being a constant in her household, he could tell that she was beginning to give herself over to happiness.

Once in a while, he thought he would see some sort of adoration adorn itself upon her face, and on one or two occasions, something more. The one thing he had longed for ever since he had first laid eyes upon her: love.

As soon as his violet eyes met her ebony ones for the first time, all of his long lost emotions had sprung back to the surface, ready to pour out everything just to get them requited. And they had been, for a short time anyway.

She had loved him as more than a nephew, a son. The kiss they shared had been bittersweet, and the taste of her still lingered on his lips to this day, more potent than any flavor that came before it.

She was with him all of the way after that. She had vouched for him when Inspector Popil, reigning member of the French police, had tried to bring him down. She had lied to numerous members of the law to get him out of danger, to get his many charges acquitted.

However, when she recognized him for what he was, she wanted nothing more to do with him.

He was a monster.

"There's nothing left of you to love."

As the words flashed through his mind again, his silent reverie was broken, the sounds of screaming resurfacing in his wake.

Sighing slightly, he glanced down at the shiny, silver scalpel in his right hand, it's blade glinting faintly in the dim candlelight.

"Murasaki," He whispered to himself as he turned the medical tool around in his gloved hand, "This one's for you. For our love."

Swiftly, he pivoted on his heel, eyes gleaming, a sadistic smile crossing his face.

"No, Hannibal! I beg of you! N-" The man's cries were muffled as Hannibal placed free hand over the Inspector's mouth, silencing him.

"Good evening, Inspector." Hannibal whispered back, leaning over the old fashioned gurney, bringing his face just inches away from Pascal Popil's; his right hand subconsciously moving towards the man's jugular. "Or should I say, good bye?"

With a quick slash, Inspector Popil's cries were reduced into breathless pants, his deep garnet blood spilling out onto his crisp suit, then slowly dripping down to the gurney.

As his enemy for so long tried to sputter out his final words before death consumed him, Hannibal straightened himself up and dangerously, brought the scalpel up to his lips. His tongue flicked out, carefully removing the ruby substance from the blade, as his prey looked on in horror.

Tossing the weapon onto the foot of the gurney, Hannibal's eyes glazed over, showing human emotion for what would probably be the last time in his miserable life.

"I know what you want to say, Inspector." He muttered, his voice most likely lost to Pascal. A single tear trailed down his cheek as he choked out, "There's nothing left of me to love."


End file.
